Gothic Diana Ross Plays Bocce to Win

Narcissists want to buy your time…so they can waste it…over and over without paying.

Gothic Diana Ross is busy minding her own business at her specialist’s waiting room up at Rush University Medical Center in Chicago. A routine follow-up appointment, Miss Ross would rather be home having fun singing with Gothic Flo and Gothic Mary, instead of waiting in a crowded room full of strangers. 

An hour passes by and Di still has not been called.

“Hey, I’m Greg Schneissder. Are you from Manteno?”

Image: colour drawing of a gothic person of color looking to the left.

”Ummm…” Diana rolls her eyes and looks away from the undead Greg,

“I saw one of your shows, you ladies are so beautiful and talented.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you know Pat Splatt?”

“Yeah…no. Eew.”

Image: a colour drawing of a 62-year-old zombie wearing a blue hoodie

“Pat is one of the coolest guys around! I hang around him and Bernadette Cacca.”

Diana freezes from panic, already nervous awaiting her lab results.

“Don’t. Mention. Bernadette.”

“Oh why? She is the the nicest person around! And so famous! I see her picture in the paper a lot. She’s a celebrity. Wasn’t she on that Human Body Odor Channel show?”

Diana rolls her eyes.

“How can you say anything bad about her?”

“Stop.”

“I am gonna complain. You are harassing me now. Nobody talks bad about Bern Cacca!”

Di looks at the lady across from her.

“I am sure he was just trying to help.”

“Really? Just…no.”

“How do you know?”

“Just leave me the fark alone.”

“I am gonna just leave. I can’t be at this office where people talk badly about other people!” Greg whinges as he storms down the stairs.

“Deeanna?”

“It’s Diana…grrr.”

Diana grabs her patent leather sack and follows the medical office assistant to be roomed.

It begins to rain, the clouds taking a massive whizz all over Northern Illinois. Thankfully Diana merges her black 1988 Chrysler Conquest onto 90/94 safely and avoids rush-hour traffic to head south on I-57 toward her home in Manteno.  Mind clear from a clean bill of health, the slender gothic beauty slides into her canopy bed, the silky black sheets comforting her as she drifts off to her internship in Hell.

Two hours later, Diana wakes up in a panic, startled by a moron who thought it would be cute to crawl into her bed.

“You know Diana, your music would sound better if you articulated your words better.”

Image: a full-colour drawing of a heavyset woman with brown hair, goofy smile, tongue hanging out, clothed in a poop emoji dress.

A stunned Diana looks over.

“You forgot to lock your door, hon.”

“Get the freak outta my house and my bed!” Diana screams at the top of her lungs and chases out the bored poopy-burner and communal narcadoodle, next-door neighbor Bernadette Moran Cacca.

“How dare you talk bad about my beloved Bernadette!” Greg Albert Schneissder screams at Diana about the crowd-pleaser for whom he created the Fakebook account “BMCacca Fannn.”

Diana slams the slate door to her Victorian Gothic home.

Gregory slithers over to Bernadette and the pair head upstairs to Bern’s bedroom.

Image: a full colour drawing of a shack next to a Victorian home.

“Can you just, like, not fart in front of me?” Greg asks his date Bernadette Cacca during their date netting some flicks while hoping to chill. 

“No, honey.”

”You don’t fart on stage at those charity events where you sing and play kazoo requests to raise money for the Manteno Optimal Club and for Ukraine.

“No need to gas-sleight me!”

“You gaslit me!” Greg retorts.

“No, I mean, I need to fart. Farting is healthy. I will implode if I don’t rip ‘em when I need to.”

The swamp-witch Bernadette lifts her leg and her bum goes boom.

A wild Gothic Diana Ross appears in the foreground.

”Heave-ho! Where are your enablers now? Bwa ha ha ha ha!” The Gothic Boss Miss Ross interjects as she yeets the communal narcadoodle Bern halfway down the staircase, and the Midnight Supremes chuck her bum-licker Greg, spocking the pallino down the stairs.

“You left your front door open…” Diana addresses the undead mess spilled all over the basement floor with a smile.

”What did those stairs do to deserve that punishment?” Gothic Mary jokes as the Midnight Supremes leave in amusement.

Image: a full-colour drawing, dimly lit, depeciting three black ladies in Gothic attire.

Damien Hurlbutt Thinks Excess Plastic is Fantastic

For Bourbonnais cinema clerk, communal narcissist, and neckbeard Damien Hurlbutt, invalidation of others’ feelings has always been one heck of a drug.

”Hey Damien? Why does Buckstars wrap all their plastic utensils in even more plastic?”

”Well actually, Lori…I was watching the Angery Game Nerd Show on PooTube and the host gets mad there is not enough packaging. After all, plastics makers need to make money too…“ Damien the self-proclaimed “nice guy” said to his ex wife at their former home in Champaign. Lori Brown – whom Damien calls “Grimace” – has been happily divorced from the Bourbonnais cinema clerk who sent her doctors lunacy letters, thinking he knew more about psychology than…um…an actual psychologist?

Have you known someone like Damien? I hope not. Lori would not wish his abuse on her worst enemy.

Sybil and the Lawnmower

While on her break from a particularly demanding — but successful — day at Kankakee craporation Credit Recovery Associates, LLC (CRASS), Lead Collections Representative Sybil Kibble takes a break from her usual dog food lunch to check out the online news.

Sybil logs off the autodialer, sets down her headset, and logs into the daily Kankakee newspaper’s web site. A yellow article, thinly disguised as news, catches Sybil’s eye immediately:

“Step up your lawn mowing game with a new, AutonaMower by SteppinUp Technologies! Make your neighbors jealous by being the first person on the block to own the new AutonaMower! Feel the power of its remote control technology while you set it to mow your lawn, walk away, and forget it! Never has been mowing your lawn been so easy! Now, the Joneses can keep up with you!”

Sybil was hooked.

“Break time is over. Get back to work!” Tara Bull growled. I should not have to babysit you.

Sybil slid back into her seat and logged into the autodialer.

As soon as Sybil makes her last collection that day – making certain to double down on that fake debt – Sybil slams down the headset and peels out the CRASS parking lot driving her Chrysler LeBaron. Off to the Buckethead’s Hardware in Bradley she went!

Sybil walks into Buckethead’s and looks around. “Welcome to Buckethead’s, where we save you money!” said Samantha, a bright eyed, bushy blonde wearing a green shirt.

“I like the sound of that!” squeals Sybil as they skip back to the lawn and garden department.

“Tony will be able to assist you” Samantha says and walks away.

“Hey Tony, I need a lawnmower that mows the lawn for you.”

“Ha, well we just got those in. They are pretty cool. We have this one operated by remote control. It hooks into your smartphone and even tells time. And then, for just 40.00 more, we have the deluxe model that has a built in radio! It even has a cupholder!”

“Hey Tony, they’re great.” Tony rolls his eyes slightly.

“However, I am not looking to spend a lot. Just gimme the cheapest model.”

“Oh-kay. We have in our economy section the AutonaMower. It mows the lawn for you. It’s our only gas model on the floor and it is on sale. $299.99”

“I’ll take it.” Sybil can barely contain her excitement. She checks out and heads home to Kankakee.

Sybil finishes up her bowl of dog food for dinner and cannot wait to unbox her new toy. She is so excited, she skips her dog bone dessert.

Out to her oh-so-slightly overgrown, manicured lawn she heads. Sybil opens the box. “Instructions? Who needs these?” Sybil chucks the manual in the trash.

Now, how do I turn this thing on? Sybil starts pressing buttons. “Crap.”

“Hey Tony?” Sybil says on her cell phone, on speaker so all the neighbours can hear.

“My lawnmower is not working.”

“Did you try putting batteries in the remote?” Tony asks.

“Oh. Nevermind.” Sybil presses the end key on her phone.

Sybil puts the included two AA batteries into the remote and presses the start key. The remote is programmed and ready to go. However the lawnmower does not even turn on.

Sybil screams a string of expletives.

Clouds roll in. As people say in the Midwest, if you do not like the weather, wait five minutes.

It begins to pour. Sybil gets so infurated that she packs up the AutonaMower, grabs the instruction manual out of the garbage, stuffs it in the box and heads back to Bucketheads in Bradley.

Sybil struts in and straight to Lawn ‘N Garden. “Tony, you sold me a broken model. This thing is crap, your store is crap.” She slams it on the floor.

“Did you put gas in it?” Tony asks.

“Ohhhh, grrrrreat.” Sybil says.

Tony laughs and rolls his eyes. It is all he can do after a long day working retail, having put up with customers like Sybil.

Do It Yourself Mike

CRASS Employee of the Year, Mike Philips

The CRASS Maintenance Chief and Building Manager Mikey Philips is a real do-it-yourselfer. In charge of security, maintenance, and all building operations at the Kankakee bill collection factory, Mike wears many hats (just not fedoras). However, Mike has no problem ordering other people to do his work and often does the bare minimum to satisfy his job description, or less.

“Knock-knock. Hi Mike. It’s Clio from HR.”

“Come.”

“The ladies’ room garbage has been overflowing all day. This is an ongoing, systematic problem. Can you please look into it?”

“Do it yourself,” Mike tells Clio.

“You are in charge of building operations. Can you please look into it?”

“I am busy, do it yourself.”

Clio walks away and Mike picks up a newspaper.

A loud pound is heard on Mike’s door. Mike grumbles and crumples his paper.

“Who goes there?”

“Tara Bull from Accounts Receivable. I need to speak with you.”

Tara opens the door.

“Yes.”

“The vending machines in the breakroom have been busted for two weeks. Get on it.”

“Do it yourself,” Mike tells Ms. Bull.

“What is the status of my request I put in two weeks ago? I sent you three emails.”

“Can you do it? I am busy, got running around to do.”

Tara storms out.

Mike logs onto the DullerImage web site to order some Craptocoins, Pet Petters and some nonfunctioning trinkets (NFTs), however his credit card is declined.

“NSF, why is that? How can I buy my NFTs if I have NSF?” Mike logs onto his Last Bank of Kankakee account and discovers he was not paid today.

Mike calls up Mr. Mack E. Avelli, CRASS CEO, to complain.

“Yes, hello. I just found out I did not get paid today. It is Friday. Why not?”

“I can pay you but you have to work to get money first. Want to earn money? Do it yourself, Mike.”

Wally Green’s Music Machine

Have you been wanting to create a pop tune but are too lazy to write music? Are you the type of person who goes for quantity over quality? Wally Green has the machine for you!

Pop music producers have been using it for awhile, but this is the first time they’re admitting it. Wally’s Music Machine is a tabletop electronic device, made by by Kankakee pharmacy owner, wacky inventor and wannabe ladies’ man Wally Green:

It randomly generates pop songs at the push of a button using Wally’s patented AI (Automated Insipidness). Try it!

Hear what Wally’s customers have to say:

“It’s as easy as pressing 1-2-3,” says a record producer for one of the Big 5 record labels, speaking on condition of anonymity. “Just power the device on, press ‘start’ and out comes a song.” 

You can even create remixes using the device. “Just pop in a CD and it does all the work for you.” he adds. You can even add effects, using plug-ins like the overused Antares Auto-Tune, and built-in preset to crank it up higher than needed on purpose. 

The record producer states that, because of it is so easy to use, producers of Top 40 pop songs use it. “You don’t have to be a nuclear physicist to run it; you don’t need have graduated 6th grade to make a pop song. It changed my life. Now I pay my girlfriend to wipe my bum for me..” 

This reason, explains an executive for the RI Double A, is why so much pop music sounds alike.

“I may live all by myself in my ginormous mansion in Beverly Hills, surrounded by sacks of cash and a fridge fulla caviar. I may go for weekly high colonics. If the stations play these songs enough, kids will like it…no matter how terrible it is. If we can minimize the amount of time spent producing a record, we can increase our profits exponentially. That’s all we want, that’s all the label wants. Who cares about art or paying the artist? Cha-ching.”

Buy your Music Machine at a Wally Green’s on a corner near you. Or not.

Behind the Moroniverse: Konrad Teirant

Konrad “Kon” Teirant

Back when I had just graduated high school and was looking forward to attending college, I applied for — and got — a job at a local drive-in movie theater. Despite the pressure put on young folks to get a job, employment was not easy to come by in a small city about to lose a couple tens of thousands of its people due to Base Realignment and Closure (BRAC).

Despite the odds, I managed to get a part-time job working at one of the few remaining drive-in movie theaters in my state. The first day went well. My supervisor was impressed with my work ethic and ability to work with customers. He warned me about the theater owner; saying he will either love me or hate me.

The next day I met the person who would later become the main inspiration behind my character Konrad “Kon” Teirant, the CRASS Accounting Chief, Cinema-13 owner and Vaudeville troop Moronic Half Assets emcee. The theater owner put the skinny blonde girl up front to collect tickets, while placing heavyset and awkward goth chick me to work behind the scenes. He could not wait to complain.

“Fill that popcorn bag. No fill it up more. Does that look full to you? It does not take a genius to figure it out. Look, I don’t think it is going to work out.” Puzzled and stunned, I asked him what he meant. He told me to leave and not come back. I never got paid for the work I had done for him.

I remember calling up my cousin, crying because I had lost my job that summer I graduated. She called the theater owner “a tyrant”. I did not know that he was a grandiose narcissist, because narcissism was never talked about in our area. I wish they would teach about it in schools, the signs of these personality traits and how to avoid them. I also wish the boards in charge of school curricula would create reforms which mandate schools teach empathy skills.

I found out later that he owns a chain of theaters in the region. I saw him in a restaurant a few years later, bragging out loud about having been flown to Atlanta, and getting loaned an Armani suit to wear for whatever business deal he was trying to get, or “big bag” as he called it.

A few years later, I was sick as a dog on Christmas Day, and called into work at my then call-center job. I wrote a song about a character I called “King Tyrant.” I made a crude sketch of him holding a “big bag”. I played the song live a few times but it was not well received, and it was not very fun to play anyway.

First concept sketch of Konrad Teirant

In 2017, after having left an emotionally abusive relationship with a communal narcissist, I started writing and creating characters. I wrote a lot. I drew a lot. To cope with having been emotionally abused and being all on my own on the verge of suicide, I wrote short stories and launched MoronicArts. I drew my very first sketch of the now-renamed Konrad Teirant while receiving treatment for suicidal ideation in a psychiatric unit.

I can certainly say writing, drawing, and having zero contact with my emotionally abusive former husband have helped me heal a lot. I write to help people laugh and make myself giggle at the same time. Laughter is one of the best medicines, for me anyway and I hope to continue to pay it forward, as I would never wish what I went through on my worst enemy.

Wally Green’s Wholesale Hacks

Kankakee’s very own pharmacy owner, wacky inventor and wannabe ladies’ man Wally Green loves to make green. Run your business into the black with his new wholesale buys!

FussPot

Do your customers poop too much? Make your customers think twice. Meet FussPot – the toilet that fusses over everything put in it! Wally’s FussPot only accepts up to four pieces of Wally’s special half-ply toilet paper. Failure to comply with the FussPot’s demands results in overflow errors.

Noise Machine

Do you want your customers to roar? Why spend money paying your minimum-wage staff to put something useful like paper towels in your washrooms, when you can install Wally’s Noise Machine instead? A V8 engine blows out way too much air, making all the noises while it sort-of dries customers’ hands if the stars align just right.

Meanwhile, the Noise Machine spreads their germs all over the place. Upgrade to Wally’s Deluxe Model powered by none other than a jet engine!

Lidiots

Do you own a coffee shop? Why go the extra mile stocking cup lids which actually stay on, when you can buy a cheap alternative? Try Wally’s patented Lidiots — the sippy-cup lid for adults! 

Never buy a straw again. The hole on the side of the lid makes it harder for customers to put their straws in, and stay in, so you can hopefully go cheap by making your cafe patrons drink out the sippy-hole instead! 

Watch as your coffeehouse customers rage when their favorite drink spills — since these cheap alternatives not only slop their five dollar lattes out the sippy-hole — but also slide off way more easily than our durable, slightly more expensive alternatives with holes in the middle of the lid. Buy one box, get one half off! (But never free)

Download Wally Green’s CrApp and submit your purchase orders now!

Kankakee Bill Collector Sybil Kibble Laughs, Lives, Loves.

Kankakee bill-collector Sybil Kibble and dog food connoisseur lives, laughs and loves — not necessarily in that order. Do you live first, laugh first, or love first? Do you need a bathroom break before deciding?

Want more morons? Keep up on the Moroniverse by signing up using your email or WordPress account.

Or if you prefer, follow us on KoFi: https://ko-fi.com/artbyjenx 🙂

The Moroniverse thanks you!

Thanos Pees All Over The Toilet Seat

Thanos had to take a huge whizz at the café, peeing all over the seat and bathroom floor. Since Thanos thinks he is boss, he left without wiping or washing his hands, leaving the mess for someone else to clean. If you sprinkle when you tinkle, wipe it up. If you sprinkle when you tinkle, wipe it up. If you dribble when you piddle. Up and down or in the middle If you sprinkle when you tinkle, wipe it up.

Sorry, Wally. I Did Not Catch That.

Kankakee drugstore owner, wacky inventor and wannabe ladies’ man Wally Green sits in his house developing a new interactive voice response (IVR) recording for callers to his store chain.

In Wally’s voice, callers to his pharmacies will have as much of their time wasted as possible trying to get through to a human.

No dial option, all callers must speak their request.

It will go a little something like this:

Please say in a few words what you are calling about.

“Sorry I did not catch that. Please say…”

“Come again? Please say in a few words what you are calling about. And be sure to take our brief 20 question survey when you are done with this call. Wally thanks you. By the way, he is single and looking.”